Better Late Than Never pt1
by High Priestess Lunatic
Summary: Will Blair Die?
1. Better Late Than Never

No I do not own the Sentinel. I lost the custody battle, but I still have weekend visitation rights. I am got stuck paying Sentinel support, so I no longer have any income. Please don't sue me. 

High Priestess Lunatic

Better Late Than Never

Part One:

" Mommy, Mommy look! That's the good elf from the movie! It's Jingles Kringles!" 

The little girl in the red and black plaid uniform with two long tugged on her mother's arm and pointed at the clown running through the crowded mall, knocking over vendor's carts, and Saturday afternoon shoppers.

He ran past the little girl and her mother carrying a shotgun in one hand and a pillow case size sack in the other. The little girl called out to him, and tried to jerk loose her mother's hand to get to him, but her mother hugged her close so she could not pull away.

Leapt over the heads of three people sitting on back to back benches like a track star over a hurtle. Then elbowed and kicked his way through a line of parents and children waiting to sit on Santa's lap,

Reaching the BMW Z3E parked between the fountain and Santa's village; he broke the glass in the driver's side window, opened the door, and climbed in. While he was bent under the steering wheel trying to hot wire the prize of the Cascade Police Department Charity Raffle, Detective James J. Ellison, came to a panting halt beside the car. 

With both hands holding his gun steady, aimed at the alleged Kringles' head, Ellison growled, "hold your hands up where I can see them, and slowly exit the car."

The man sat up, his hands below window level reaching for the stock of the shotgun. James loudly cocked the hammer of his gun. "Make any sudden moves and you won't live to see the New Year."

James took four steps back, so he would be out of the range of the door in case it was opened suddenly in an effort to knock him off balance. The man opened the door and came out of the car, holding his hands up above his head. 

The alleged Jingles Kringles was dressed like an elf. He wore a long green and red stripped knit stocking cap a crowning spike neon yellow hair, pointed ears, a green felt tunic belted with a leather cord, white tights and brown ankle boots.

James had him kneel down, with his hands on his head. Blair emerged through the crowds pushing a short Asian woman with long brown hair, and dressed like Jingles Kringles in front of him. Her hands were cuffed behind her, and he held a gun to the small of her back.

"You caught'em!"

"Was there ever a doubt?" James asked over his shoulder grinning. 

"Gloating does not become you man." Blair pushed the Asian women down on her knees beside the blonde man. Taking an extra set of handcuffs from the back pocket of his blue jeans, he clipped them on the women's wrist. "What's your time?"

James glanced at his watch as he came forward, took the man by one arm, and hauled him up to his feet by his upper arm, then pulled the women up to her feet. "Two minutes, thirty six seconds flat." 

After re-holstering his pistol under his left arm, Blair crawled into the black sports car. With one knee on the glass covered bucket set, and one foot on the floor he picked up the diamond jewelery that had fallen out of the sack, and put it back in the bag.

"You are so full of shit man! My watch says three minutes, twenty and a tenth!"

"You weren't even _here _when I made the arrest! How are you going to tell me want went down and when!"

"Hey Jim, aren't you forgetting something?" Blair emerged from the BMW with the 10 gauge shot gun tucked under one arm and he pillow sack of jewelry flung over his shoulder.

James propelled the two prisoners forward, holding one by the arm with each of his hands. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say, can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, if you can not afford one -"

"Hey what are you doing to Jingles and Holly?"

James looked down at the chubby little boy with chocolate stains around his mouth, a thick foot long peppermint stick in each grubby fist, and wearing in the dark blue sweater and blue jeans. 

"Don't you know better than to wonder off by yourself?" he demanded. "Where are your parents?" 

The blonde man bent forward and stage whispered to the little boy. "He's a goblin! He's taking us to Grum's lair! Run away boy, or you'll end up in the dragon's belly too!"

"Hurry! Tell Santa to sent help quick!" the Asian women chimed in. "The short one has the keys to the chest of Christmas Magic in that sack! If we don't get it back Christmas will never come!"

"Hey who you calling short?" Blair looked down on the Asian women's head as he caught up to James' side. "Why don't you exercise your right to remain silent?"

"Save us! SAVE US!" the blonde man shouted to the mall at large. "For the love of Claus and Christmas SAVE US!"

"Shut up damnit" James shook the blonde man. "You're not a elf!"

THWACK! 

The little boy smack James across the knees the foot long, two inch thick stick of peppermint candy he had in his hands. James fell to the ground with a shout of pain, taking the blonde man and the Asian women with him.

"Hey stop that!" Blair dropped the shotgun and the sack and grabbed the little boy by the back of his sweater. He pulled him up from the floor where he had been beating James with the broken candy cane. 

Picking the boy up, Blair held the heavy squirming mass of fighting five year old off of James. "We're police officers! They're criminals! We're arresting them! We're the good guys! Stop kicking me!"

"HELP! THE GOBLIN GOT ME! HE'S HEMLOCK THE GOBLIN!" 

"Save Christmas! Save us!" the blonde man continued to shout. He stood up and tried to run, but James tackled him and pulled him back by the arm.

"He's Hemlock the Goblin! They're both Goblins!" the asian women added. James grabbed her by her waist long braid of brown hair and pulled her back to his side as she tried to crawl toward the dropped shotgun.

"THEY'RE TRYING TO STEAL THE MAGIC OF CHRISTMAS! THEY'RE TAKING JINGLES AND HOLLY TO GRUM'S LAIR -"

"Will you SHUT UP!" Blair shouted covering the boy's mouth with one hand, but it was to late.

As one, all the little children who had been waiting to see Santa Claus broke away from their parents. They rushed at James and Blair waving the long thick candy canes they had been given by Santa's helpers like clubs screaming in high pitched outrage. 

"Oh shit." Blair dropped the little boy he was holding, only to be kicked in the shins. While he was jumping up and down on one foot, holding his injured leg, fifty children under ten barreled into him. Blair was knocked flat on his back. He brought his hands up to cover his face as the children began to beat him with candy canes, little fists and feet.

Rolling into a fetal ball, Blair tried to protect his head and stomach. While the other children attacked Blair the chubby boy with the bowl haircut pulled the pistol out of it's holster. He was close, Blair's arm covered head was at his feet. There was no need to take aim, the other children were not really in the way. He fired the gun.

Startled by the loud unexpected noise the children scattered like kicked chickens, running back to their parents crying in fear. The surrounding adults fell to the floor reflexively hoping not to be shot. 

The only people left standing near Blair's body were James, and the little boy with the gun in his hands.

"I shot him. I shot Hemlock the Goblin." The little boy dropped the gun, and it clattered on the floor, and was quickly surrounded by blood, pooling on the floor. "I saved Christmas."

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This story was inspired by WindDancer's _Unchained Aggression,_ ([http://www.geocities.com/sentinelfl/FanFicPage.htm][1]) well sort of.

Comments, and Chinese Crispy Chicken are welcome.

1360

   [1]: http://www.geocities.com/sentinelfl/FanFicPage.htm



	2. Default Chapter Title

No I do not own the Sentinel. I lost the custody battle, but I still have weekend visitation rights. I am got stuck paying Sentinel support, so I no longer have any income. Please don't sue me. 

High Priestess Lunatic

Better Late Than Never

Part Two:

It was the kind of story that had so many angles, it could be rehashed like Christmas turkey until Valentines Day, or at least until something more interesting came along. It was the kind of holiday tearjerker that could get national coverage. It was the kind of story that could be her ticket out of channel 5 WKAA Seattle to Dateline or CNN. It was an opportunity Bailey Carr did not intend to miss. 

"The scene can only be described as pandemonium here, at Cascade's Red Bird Mall. Forty-five minutes ago, Detective Sandburg of the Cascade Police Department was shot with his own police issue handgun by five-year-old Phillip Michael Fuller IV, son of Senator Phillip Michael Fuller III. and grandson of Governor Phillip Michael Fuller Jr."

Between the cameraman, with he thirty pound Sony V356 on his shoulder and the sound man holding the boom stick - a capsule shaped microphone at the end of a long stick - above her head was a television monitor on a cart. On the screen was the talking head of Aaron Tate, the anchor of WKAA at the channel 5 News desk. 

"Bailey, just how did the son of Senator Phillips happen to _get _the detective's gun?"

"According to eye witness reports, the shot was fired after Detective Sandburg and his partner had arrested two suspects for allegedly robbing the Christie's Jewelry store here in Red Bird Mall. The suspects were dressed like characters the hit holiday movies _Santa's Helpers, _and _Saving Christmas. _Believing Detective Sandburg to be a goblin, the Governor's grandson attacked, and incited two hundred other children who had been waiting to sit on Santa's lap to join him. While the Detective was being beaten on the floor, Phillip Fuller IV shot the detective with his own gun." 

On the monitor, the news feed cut from live footage of Bailey to the prerecorded interviews with witnesses. The mother of tearful little girl in a red and black plaid uniform told how the blonde elf ran past her, and how her own daughter wanted to run to his aid when he was being arrested. She blamed the media for the children's lack of reality.

"It's just to much you know? Kids are bombarded with this stuff all the time. They're so stimulated with sensory input that they might as well be on drugs, you know?"

The next interview was with a skinny boy who held his litter sister's hand while she sucked her thumb. Both had cherub round faces and large sky blue eyes. They were dressed identically in white turtlenecks, Winnie the Pooh sweatshirts and jeans. He was _positive _it was the Goblin Hemlock, Jingles Kringles, and Holly. They looked just like in the movies. He did not join in the fighting because he was afraid Clara - his sister - would get hurt. 

"I wished I had though. Do you think Santa will forgive me for not helping Jingles and Holly when I had the chance?"

A broad shouldered man with a crew cut, Roman nose who tilted his chin so that he appeared to be looking down on the cameraman haughtily. He wore a navy blue suit tailored to accentuate his gym bought muscles. He said the arresting officers did their job and did it well. The blonde freak tried to use charity raffle prize as a get away vehicle, but the police apprehended him. The situation was under control until the fat boy with the candy sticks got the other kids to lynch the curly haired cop, while he shot him. He blamed Senator Phillip Fuller for leaving his son unattended, and the other parents for letting their kids run wild. 

"This never would have happened if the Republicans were in office, that's for damn sure," he said with conviction. 

During the taped interviews, Bailey tried to get an interview with Captain Simon Banks of Major Crimes. Detective Ellison had gone with his partner to the hospital, and she knew from past experience never to try to talk to the man. He was just _too _hostile in front of the cameras.

Bailey had to hustle to keep up with the Captain's long stride without looking like she was running. "Come on, Captain Banks! Just a short statement-"

"No comment," the Captain growled. 

Simon pushed through the glass doors of Red Bird Mall, headed toward the patrol car waiting to take him to the Hospital so he could check on Blair's condition. James Ellison was not answering his phone and that was a _bad _sign.

"You have _nothing _to say about the fact one of your officers was shot in the line of duty by a five year old? You have nothing to say about the allegations that the patrol officers arrived _late? _Five minutes after the ambulance? You have nothing to say about the fact this _may _be related to Detective Sandburg's declaration that he was a _fraud _last June?"

"I said no comment damnit!" Simon shouted angrily. He snatched the door of the patrol car open so hard it bounced back hitting him as he climbed into the passangers' side. "Don't you buzzards have a carcass to circle somewhere?"

"Who are you trying to protect with your silence Captain Banks, the dirty cops at the Cascade Police Department or the Commissioner's reputation? It obviously isn't Detective Sandburg."

"Are you going to drive or will you get out and let me?" Simon asked the patrol officer at the wheel of the car. 

"No sir, I mean yes sir I will." Officer Daniels turned the key in the ignition, put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb with a squeal of the tires, sirens blazing and shrieking. While Daniels weaved his way through traffic to Cascade General Hospital, Simon folded his arms across his chest and leaned his head against the cool glass of the door.

"This never should have happened," he muttered under his breath, his eyes sliding closed. Simon could clearly see the large irregular circle of blood congealing the floor of the Red Bird Mall between the fountain and the BMW Z3 in his minds eye. He opened his eyes, distracting himself with the passing scenery. "This was bound to happen. Why the hell was I so blind?"

He sat up straight, remembering, he buckled his seat belt. Simon leaned his head back against the headrest and rubbed his face with both hands, trying to wipe off the guilt that felt like grimy dirt all over his skin, making him itch. 

He had known there were problems, he had known Sandburg's assent to Major Crimes straight from the academy was resented, but it could not be helped. James Ellison needed Blair Sandburg. Regardless of _what _Ellison said. There was no way he could wait the four or five years it would take for Blair to crawl up through the department and earnhis place to the rank and file's satisfaction. 

Besides Blair had already paid his dues to Simon's satisfaction. He was the Captain of Major Crimes; _his _was the only opinion that counted right?

Obviously not. 

Simon exited the car as it slowed down under the hospital's circular carport. There was no need to thank or acknowledge Daniels. He was one of the patrol officers that arrive late at the scene. Simon would ream him out and get to the bottom of it later, at that moment he was just too furious. One of the first things they taught at the Academy was never question a suspect while you are angry, armed and can think of three places to hid a body off the top of your head.

Another of channel 5's news crews was at the hospital, camped out near the front desk of the lobby waiting for Simon to show up. The moment the stepped through the automatic doors, they launched toward the Captain waving a microphone at his mouth and a boom stick over his head.

With a frustrated growl, Simon muscled his way through them like a line backer actually knocking the camera man into a wall and the soundman flat on his behind. While he jogged toward the bank of elevators, the people in the lobby stood up and clapped for him. 

The news crew personnel picked themselves up and started after Simon but were stopped by four burly orderlies who quietly reminded them of the hospital's policies on noise and disturbances. Then sat the lot of them down in a corner where they would not disturb the friends and families of the patients.

Simon had called ahead from the scene at Red Bird Mall, just before Bailey Carr decided she wanted an interview. He got off on the third floor, took the stairs up the sixth and walked over to the Hematology Department. He did not want to give the media any clue to where Blair was, they would find out on their own soon enough.

He arrived in the waiting room just as a doctor in blue scrubs patted James on the shoulder, stood up and headed back through the metal swinging doors of the ward. Simon crossed the room quickly and sat down in the chair the doctor had just vacated, beside James who had his face buried in his hands and his elbows on his knees. 

Simon sat forward mimicking James' position, and leaned toward his best detective until their shoulders were touching. "What did the doctor say?" 

"The doctor said," James began in a shaky voice. "The doctor said." His voice cracked on 'said'. James took a deep breath, snuffling what sounded like clogged sinuses; he wiped his red eyes with his fingers then turned his head to look at Simon. "The doctor said we need to find Naomi."

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Comments, and Chinese Crispy Chicken are welcome.

1636


	3. Default Chapter Title

No I do not own the Sentinel. I lost the custody battle, but I still have weekend visitation rights. I am got stuck paying Sentinel support, so I no longer have any income. Please don't sue me. 

High Priestess Lunatic

Better Late Than Never

Part Three:

On the wall, above the red number four beside the loft's front door was a map of the world. It was a gift from Naomi. She sent a new one, updated with the latest countries and boundary lines, every year Christmas. Blair had explained that the tradition began his freshman year of college. The first time Naomi had left him for an entire year. Blue thumbtacks connected with twine represented where Naomi had been. The red thumbtack represented Naomi last known location. Clear thumbtacks where she mentioned she might go soon.

According the string and thumbtacks stuck to the map like an erratic game of connect the dots, Naomi had circumvented the globe seven times this year. Four more times than last year, when Naomi fell in love with Eastern Europe. She even applied for citizenship in Poland before the first blizzard drove her out of the hemisphere. 

James studied the map carefully looking for the white thumbtack that would be the start of his hunt. Africa was a bust, so was Australia, and Asia, surprising considering how much she enjoyed India during the rainy season. She had once told James over Blair's baby pictures, cow tongue and wine that when she danced naked in the rain of the monsoons on top of the Palatka Petaluma Temple in Bombay, was the only time when her primal soul was truly liberated from her carnal prison. 

Naomi was no Nancy Homemaker, but she was the most probable tissue match to Blair that James could think of. If he had to fly half way around the world, and shake Naomi down from the coconut trees Guam his bags were packed. For once in her life, Naomi was going to be _there _for Blair when he needed her. Not months later after everything was already resolved.

However, although the map told James where Naomi had been, where Blair thought she was and where she might go, it did not give him any telephone numbers or addresses. All that information was stored on Blair's Sony Viao - a birthday gift from James. 

James did not know Naomi's e-mail account. He also did not know the password to Blair's laptop. So he took it down to the police station technicians at the police department break it for him. What they had succeeded in doing was setting off a security program that promised to completely delete the computer's memory. Which was why James was weaving through one hundred and six miles an hour to Rainier University through rush hour traffic. 

There was only seventeen minutes left.

Even over the blare of the sirens James could hear the intentionally of REM's _It's the End of the World _as sung by Blair Sandburg blasting from the tiny speaker of the laptop that lay open on the floor of the passenger's side of the truck. It had slide off the bench seat three turns ago, but remained open and undamaged as far as James could tell. 

James retrieved his cellular phone from the inner pocket of his black leather jacket and almost tossed it to Blair, before quickly remembering his Guide was in the ICU of Cascade General Hospital waiting on him to find his mother and save his life. 

James stabbed a phone number into the small machine with his thumb. Holding the small telephone up to his ear he growled, "come on. Come on. Pick up the damn phone!" at the recurring dial tone. 

The switchboard operator answered on the fifth ring. "Hello, this Rainier University. How may I direct your call?"

"I need to speak to Jack Keslo, NOW!"

"I'm sorry I can't hear you. Can you turn your television down?"

"I said JACK KESLO! JACK. KESLO. History department!"

"Just a moment please." The operator switched James over to hold. "I am connecting you to the History Department."

"WAIT!" James shouted but it was to late. 

Ten rings later James was connected with the voice mail of the History Department."Thank you for calling the History Department of Rainier University. If you have reached this recording during normal business hours all of our secretaries are busy assisting other students. Please leave a message or try calling back at a later time. If you know the extension of your instructor's voice mail please enter the code now." 

BEEP

"DAMN-IT!" James wrenched the steering wheel hard to the right driving up on to the sidewalk to cut in front of a slow Fed-Ex truck on a two lane one-way road, where the passing lane was closed for construction. Keeping one eye on the sidewalk to avoid hitting pedestrians, he punched the number to the Anthropology Department. 

"Hello this is-"

"Maple, it's Detective James Ellison, Blair's friend-"

"What? I can't hear you-"

"ELLISON! DETECTIVE -"

"Oh! Blair's cop friend! How are you James? Blair goes on and on about you, but we never see much of you-"

"Maple. MABEL! CONNECT ME TO KESLO! IT'S AN EMERGANCY!"

"Keslo? Jack Keslo? The history -"

"YES DAMNIT! CONNECT ME TO HIS OFFICE NOW!"

"Well!" Maple huffed indignantly. "There certainly is no need to swear!" She clicked off and for a moment James was afraid she had hung up on him. Then the phone began to ring again.

"Keslo, speaking-"

"Jack, it's Ellison. I need you to crack -"

"What? I can't hear you-"

James fish tailed around the corner of University Parkway and Hargrove Drive, dropping the phone to take hold of the steering wheel with both hands to keep control of the truck as it continued to swerve right into the faculty parking lot beside Hargrove Hall. He drove up onto the green of the quadrangle, past the water fountain skidding to a stop in front of Skillman Hall, where the History Department was located.

James leaned down; grabbing the laptop up off the floor with one hand opened the stumbled out of the drivers' side door without taking the keys out of the ignition or turning the siren off. Holding the flat computer under his arm like a football he rushed into Skillman Hall, pushing through the exiting freshmen with the force of a bullet through flesh. 

Avoiding the elevator, he took two flights of stairs in three stair strides. Jack Keslo's officer was the third to the right of the stairs, and when James flung open the door hard enough to put a crack in the frosted glass the history and political science professor was just hanging up the phone. 

"You certainly are expedient, Detective Ellison. I assume this is an emergency?"

"Yea, yes!" James panted holding himself up by leaning on the door and gripping his knob tightly in his fist with the laptop tucked under his arm. "Na, not much time left." He took a large gulp of air and stumbled to forward to deposit the computer on top of the papers on Keslo's desk. "Blair's, need in, no password," he explained simply.

Keslo opened the notebook computer. When the liquid crystal screen was raised, the figure of a wolf with ticking stop watch for a head, wearing a hula skirt, and dancing on its hind legs like a Polynesian appeared singing _It's the End of the World _in Blair's voice.

"Very cute," Keslo chuckled and started typing. "I am of course correct in believing that Blair would approve of you breaking into his computer even though he obviously did _not _give you the password?"

"Yes. Need to find his mother. Her e-mail address." James hauled himself gracelessly onto one of the armchairs in Front of Keslo's desk. He had run from the seventh story of the police department, to his truck in the garage, because the elevators were out. Taking deep breathes through his mouth and out his nose; he composed himself enough to speak clearly. "He was shot this morning."

The music stopped. James could see in the reflection of Keslo's glasses that he had the main windows desktop screen open. "Is he dying?"

"He might need new liver. In twenty-four hours the doctors will know for sure. He was in surgery for five hours, now he's under observation. If he needs a transplant, it'll just take a third of Naomi's for him to survive.. The rest will grow back on its own, but she has got to be _here _to be prepped for surgery in case we need her."

"Then we'll just have to find her and make sure he gets it, won't we?" 

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Comments, and Chinese Crispy Chicken are welcome.

1388


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